


Monsters Don't Have Soulmates

by xXQueenofDragonsXx



Series: Carlydia One-shots [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alpha is a bitch, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Carl Grimes, Carl Grimes Lives, F/M, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Protective Carl Grimes, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, lydia deserves a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:01:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28887294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXQueenofDragonsXx/pseuds/xXQueenofDragonsXx
Summary: Monsters don't have soulmates.Alpha has been telling Lydia that for as long as she can remember.But she should've known that most of what her mother says is bullshit.
Relationships: Carl Grimes/Lydia
Series: Carlydia One-shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029588
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Monsters Don't Have Soulmates

**Author's Note:**

> (In a world where people have flower tattoos wherever their soulmate has a scar.)

_Monsters don't have soulmates._

Those are the words that have been ingrained into Lydia's mind since she was six-years-old, the ones that her mother refuses to let her forget. _Those flowers on your skin do not mean anything,_ her mother had said to her when the first one had appeared nearly a decade before, a sneer adorning her face -- _they make you weak, do not let them do that._ Lydia had no reason to doubt her mother about this, so she had been forced to push the idea of soulmates far into the very back of her mind. Sure, she definitely has a few flowers appearing on her skin every few months -- or even weeks, but that doesn't mean anything to her -- it can't mean anything to her because otherwise, she would be weak.

_Monsters don't have soulmates._

Lydia had never seen a single flower appear on her mother's body, something that her mother had seemed very proud of. She had seen them on other Whisperers, though -- sprouting up whenever their soulmate gets a new scar, and every time Lydia can't help the curiosity that rises within her. _What would that be like?_ Lydia can't help but wonder. _Having someone to always be there for you? To always love and cherish you?_ The idea feels so foreign to her. So... odd.

_Monsters don't have soulmates._

Lydia herself only has two big marks marring her body as well as a dozen small ones. The first one had appeared sometime after her father had died -- a small cluster of dark red roses scattered around the side of her belly, maybe a gunshot wound or something. The other one is much bigger, much more noticeable. It had been a year after meeting Beta when it appeared. Lydia had been eating her meager dinner when the right side of her face had gotten all tingly and warm, and she had gone to a nearby river to see what was wrong only to be dumbfounded when an array of different colored lilies bloomed around her right eye. Nearly right on top of it. 

Her mother had been angry when she had first seen the flowers on Lydia's face. Horribly so. Lydia had suffered a horrible beating that day, one that had left her with a small scar going across her left eyebrow as well as millions of lash marks on her arms. 

She sometimes wonders what her soulmate must have thought when the flowers first appeared on their arms and eyebrow. Scrap that, she wonders what they must have felt when all of them appeared. Lydia's body is a map of different scars, and her arms are the worst of them all. She can only imagine what her poor soulmate must look like. They must be horrified by it. She even finds herself wondering if they ever worry about her whenever a new cluster of flowers appears every few days, or do they just not care?

_Monsters don't have soulmates._

Despite her mother's words, Lydia sometimes finds herself staring down at flowers marking her body or touching the ones marring her face. She finds herself wondering about them -- if her soulmate is a boy or girl: if they're kind, strong, smart... She tries to shove down her excitement and relief whenever a new flower tattoo blossoms somewhere on her body -- because whenever a new one appears, it means her soulmate remains alive, wherever he or she may be. And while Lydia knows how slim the chances of her ever meeting her soulmate are, the fact that they aren't dead yet means so much to her. 

She never lets her mother catch her daydreaming like this, though. The punishment for that would be near catastrophic, and it makes her cringe just imagining it. So Lydia goes through her life with her head ducked down, taking any punishment directed her way and trying to gain as little attention as possible. She follows orders, stays quiet, and keeps to the side -- and if she spends her nights running her fingers over the tiny flowers on her stomach or face every now and again, that's between her and no one else. 

_Monsters don't have soulmates._

* * *

Lydia knows that Henry isn't her soulmate. 

He has no injury on his face, none on his stomach, any of the scars he has are small, and all in the wrong places -- the flower markings that cover his skin are tiny, and there's only three of them. So Lydia knows that he isn't her soulmate, and Henry knows that he isn't hers. Still, that doesn't stop Lydia from kissing him before she is forced to go back to her mother or when they had just escaped the Whisperers and were preparing for Beta and his 'rescue party' to come. It doesn't stop her from feeling jealous at the fair when she saw him talking to Addy, and it certainly doesn't stop her from kissing him again sometime later. 

Henry isn't Lydia's soulmate -- he's someone else's. He doesn't have many flowers on him, but the ones that are there are small and nearly impossible to notice. There's one on his cheek and one on his palm, each about the size of a paperclip. Whenever she sees one of them, she's swarmed by a feeling of jealousy and anger. It makes her think about the markings on her own body: the ones on her face and stomach. It makes her wonder if her own soulmate is out there kissing some other person. 

Henry isn't Lydia's soulmate, but he is kind and caring and maybe a little bit naïve, but that just makes him so much more endearing to her. He definitely isn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was the first person in years to show her some form of kindness -- he was the first person she met who hadn't treated her like trash -- who hadn't thrown her around, smack her, or even yell at her. He was her first friend in who knows how long, and before she knew it, that friendship bloomed into something more.

Henry isn't Lydia's soulmate, but she had loved him despite it. And when she had first seen his head on that pike, eyes lifeless and blank with his teeth snapping almost mechanically, she could feel her heart shatter into a million different pieces.

_Monsters don't have soulmates._

* * *

It's snowing when it happens.

It's right after they had gotten back from escorting the people of Kingdom to Hilltop, and Lydia had gotten dragged into the snowball fight that had started. She doesn't mind at all -- it's cold, but it's also the most fun she's had in years. Lydia had just slammed a snowball into the back of Daryl's head when she feels a pile of snow smack right into her side.

Lydia stumbles, whipping her head around to find the culprit. It's a young man with dark brown hair -- Lydia remembers seeing him at the fair briefly. The man is smiling brightly, and Lydia watches as he tosses a snowball in Michonne's direction, hitting the woman on the arm. It would be a perfect chance for Lydia to get her own snowball and throw it at him, but then he turns, tucking a long strand of hair behind his ear, and Lydia has actually lost the ability to breathe. 

She stares over at him, totally frozen as she takes in the appearance of the man's face. There is a burst of yellow daisies going over his eyebrow, and as Lydia stares, she realizes that his eye is missing, and then she sees the skin around his missing eye isn't even there -- instead, there is pale red scar tissue. For a second, Lydia swears that her heart has actually stopped beating. Because that scar on his face is a mirror image of the tattoos on hers. 

Then, the man looks up, his gaze meeting her own. She sees a look of curiosity cross his face, and then it's followed by a realization. 

_Oh shit._

She has to get out of here. The air has suddenly turned stale, and it's closing in on her at an alarming rate. Lydia forces herself to move despite the numbness and panic slowly overcoming her. She stumbles a few steps before breaking into a run, ignoring the way the man shouts after her. Lydia ignores him -- she can't do it. Her mother's words are bouncing around her head, and she's just turned the street's corner when someone grabs her by the arm, forcing her to stop.

"Jesus Christ, you run fast," the man says, his breathing heavily, but his grip on her arm doesn't loosen, "gotta say, this is not how I expected my day to go." 

"I don't-" Lydia feels her breathing begin to quicken, and tears start to blur at the corners of her eyes. "I-"

_Monsters don't have soulmates._

Lydia feels herself begin to sway, and the ringing in her ears only grows louder. Her mother's words keep repeating in her mind, and before she realizes what's happening, her legs are failing beneath her.

She hears the man -- oh shit... her _soulmate_ \-- curse, and he grabs her by the waist, catching her before she can collapse. His grip is gentle as he slowly lowers them both to the ground. Lydia can feel the cold seeping in through her clothes, but she doesn't care. She presses a hand to her chest, her forehead resting against the man's shoulder as she struggles to breathe.

The man grabs both her hands. "Look at me," he whispers sternly, and through her panic, she somehow manages to lift her head, meeting his calm blue gaze, "you're having a panic attack - I need you to listen to me."

Lydia nods her head jerkily, still unable to catch her breath. She focuses her attention on the yellow daisies on his eyebrow. 

The man gives her a strained smile, "okay, this may sound weird, but I need you to tell me five things you can see."

He's right. It does sound weird. But he seems serious, and Lydia somehow manages to find the strength to speak. "You, the snow..." she stutters.

The man nods. "Good.. now do three more."

"The sky. The... the house behind you." Lydia blinks furiously in an attempt to clear her vision. "The street?"

A small laugh escapes from the man. "Good. Now, tell me four things you can touch."

This only serves to make Lydia more confused, but she does as asked. "You. The snow."

"Two more?" the man urges gently, his voice unbelievably soft. As Lydia ponders over his words, she realizes that her mind has begun to clear, and she can breathe a little bit easier now. 

"Um." Lydia takes in a shaky breath. "The ground. My... my clothes."

He nods again. "Three things you can hear."

"You," she murmurs, "um... the wind. Laughter from the snowball fight." Vaguely, she wonders if anyone had noticed their disappearance.

"Two things you can smell."

It takes Lydia a moment or two to figure this one out. "Snow," she says hesitantly, "you." The man smells faintly of leather, forest, and a hint of baby powder -- it's a comforting scent. 

"And one thing you can taste?" he finishes, giving Lydia's hands the smallest of squeezes. She focuses her attention on the hair falling in his face before taking in a deep breath.

"Snow, from the snowball fight," she says softly, leaning back. She doesn't pull away completely, though. She feels her muscles slowly begin to relax, and while her breathing is still somewhat shaky, it isn't as bad as it was before. Lydia's heart slows to a healthier rate, and the ringing in her ears has finally ceased.

"I'm sorry," she whispers finally, shame burning her cheeks, "for running. And... for this."

The man cocks his head. "You don't have to apologize," he says quietly, "I get them too. Panic attacks, I mean." He shrugs, the expression on his face being a tad sheepish.

"You aren't mad?" Lydia croaks out, her eyes wide. The man actually laughs at her words -- the sound is like music to her ears.

"No," he says, shaking his head, "I understand, in a way. Soulmates are..." he pauses, his expression thoughtful, "everyone reacts a different way. Sometimes you can't help it." He then tilts his head, a small grin covering his face. "Here, let's start over. My name is Carl. And you are?"

"Lydia... and what was that you just did? With the counting?" Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and she shakes her head, trying to shove back the headache starting to form because of all these fucking _feelings_ that had suddenly come over her. She knows from things she's overheard in the pack that it feels like this when you meet your soulmate -- like a rush of unfamiliar emotions and such, but she had never expected it to be this dizzying. The only thing that's keeping her from freaking out again is the singular blue eye that is staring at her curiously -- the most beautiful shade of blue that she's ever had the privilege of seeing. 

"It's something my dad used whenever I got panic attacks," Carl admits, "I don't know what it's called exactly, but it helps me and my step-mom a lot. Figured it would do the same for you." He starts moving abruptly, and Lydia bites back a yelp as he climbs to his feet, pulling her up along with him. His hands are on her arms, and she realizes that he is gazing down at them with an unfamiliar expression on his face -- one of concern. 

Wordlessly, Lydia pulls one of her arms out of his grasp, slowly tugging back her sleeve to show the hundreds of lash marks her mother had left her with. Time seems to slow down as Carl takes Lydia's bare arm into his hands, his face carefully blank as he brushed his finger over one of the many scars. 

"My mom did that," Lydia explains softly. 

Something akin to rage flickers across Carl's face, but it disappears within seconds as Carl carefully pulls back his own sleeve, and Lydia gasps at the sight of the pure white snowdrops crisscrossing his arm -- all mirror images of her own scars. Lydia reaches out hesitantly, a finger tracing one of the many tattoos. Carl lets her, and she can feel his gaze on her as she does. The feel of his stare makes her face burn red, but she somehow manages to ignore it.

"You worried me a lot, you know," Carl mumbles softly, reluctantly breaking the calming quiet that had washed over them, "they appeared so often... I always hated how helpless it would make me feel."

"But at the same time, whenever one of these appeared, you were relieved because it meant I was alive," Lydia says, forcing her gaze away from his arm, "I know that's how I felt." Cold winds surround the two of them, but Lydia can hardly feel it. She's too lost in the warmth that the man in front of her brings to her. Lydia wonders if he feels the same.

"Yes," Carl agrees, "but I was more worried because it meant something out there was hurting you, and I couldn't do shit about it." Slowly, he reaches out, fingers brushing against her cheek. He tucks a long strand of hair behind her ear, and Lydia knows that he's looking at the flowers that cover almost half of her face. "Though I do have to apologize for this, I imagine it couldn't have been easy having a huge fucking bouquet of flowers on your face."

Lydia lets out a startled laugh. "It wasn't, but I managed just fine," she smiles, and Carl gives her a mischievous grin. It's a look that Lydia knows she can easily get addicted to, and who knows, maybe she'll get the chance. Lydia doesn't think about it for long because then her gaze is drifting down to Carl's lips, wondering if they're as soft as they look. 

"Can..." a look of hesitance crosses his face, "is it alright if I kiss you?" Lydia's breath catches, and her heart starts beating wildly in her chest. She stares at him for a long few moments, and before she can convince herself not to, she leans forward, pressing her lips to his. Immediately, one of Carl's hands move to cup Lydia's face, and the other he places on her lower back -- Lydia tangles her fingers in his hair, pressing herself closer as her legs threaten to fail beneath her once again. 

This is nothing like the kisses she shared with Henry. Those kisses had been quick and chaste -- they had been sweet and unsure. This one fills Lydia with warmth, and she feels sparks of something -- joy, perhaps -- igniting inside of her. The world is impossibly cold around them as snow continues to fall, but Lydia doesn't think she's ever felt so warm. 

After a few seconds, Carl pulls back just enough to meet her eyes. His face is flushed red, and Lydia knows that hers probably isn't much better. They stare at each other for a few long moments, and then Lydia leans forward again, crushing their lips together once more. Carl's grip on her tightens -- not enough to hurt -- and one of his hands runs up her arm before lacing their fingers together. Lydia feels her heart grow impossibly full, and she melts into him, a sigh of contentment escaping her. 

Monsters may not have soulmates, but Lydia isn't her mother, nor is she one of the countless dead ones that walk the earth. She's human, and when Carl pulls away from the second kiss to give her a goofy grin, she realizes that she can most certainly get used to something like this. 

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the second one-shot I have posted today.
> 
> Don't get used to me posting everyday, I just had a sudden burst of motivation so... yeah. 
> 
> Enjoy this one-shot, though!


End file.
